


I've Known Them All Already

by dog_loving_goth



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Also in which Hugo's ex is a real big jerk, But I feel like if you own a coffeeshop you hear a lot of stuff you're not supposed to, In which Mat accidentally eavesdrops, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dog_loving_goth/pseuds/dog_loving_goth
Summary: Damien and Hugo accidentally miss open mic-night, and instead have a conversation with unexpected consequences.





	I've Known Them All Already

It had been an accident.

A simple mistake – Damien had misread the time for Open Mic night – and it had cost them the chance to listen to some of Maple Bay’s most eclectic music. But Mat had taken pity on his friends. Smiling broadly as he unlocked the door, Mat let Damien and Hugo into the Coffee Spoon, broom in hand.

“Hey! You missed all the excitement.” Mat regretted those words the minute they escaped him. Damien’s face twisted in disappointment, and Hugo’s expression didn’t much differ. “I…yeah…of course you knew that. Wow, I just rubbed that in, didn’t I? I am so sorry. And now I’m doing that thing again where I can’t seem to stop talking-“

“It is quite all right, Mat.” Damien gently interrupted. “Hugo and I had planned to be here for this musical extravaganza. We had been so looking forward to such a relaxing evening. If I had not misread the poster…”

“Trust me, you didn’t miss too much.” Mat had been about to expound on the current antics of Jonathan Jones and the Speakeasy Choir, but Hugo’s noticeable silence had struck him. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but Hugo looked as though he definitely needed some R&R.

“Hey, it’s uh…gonna be a while. I just got started on cleanup. Why don’t you guys take a load off?”

Mat was sure they’d protest, but instead, Hugo’s face broadened into a relieved smile. “You’d be all right if we just…sat and talked?”

“I’d even bring you a Chai Antwoord.”

Hugo wrinkled his nose. “You know, it’s pronounced-“

Mat waved his hand as he walked behind the Coffee Spoon’s bar. “I’m gonna change it eventually.”

Damien and Hugo chose a small sectional in the corner, allowing themselves the illusion of privacy in the nearly silent room.

Arranging himself very neatly, Damien fixed Hugo with his gaze. “I am ready to listen, my friend.”

But Hugo didn’t know where to begin. He sat there, staring at his hands for some time. At some point, he managed to choke out the phrase “I don’t…”, but it was all he could manage. Then, in his blurry field of view, came Damien’s own hands – soft and smooth, they squeezed reassurance into Hugo.

“Please. Take your time.”

An eloquent speaker even at the direst of times, Hugo tried so desperately to reach for some phrase or word to convey to Damien what had happened, but none would come. In a fit of frustration, he grabbed Damien’s hand roughly. He forced that soft palm over his fingers, and shuddered in relief when Damien inhaled a sharp breath.

“Ah. There are no longer any adornments.”

Hugo managed a strangled laugh. “That…would be one way to put it. Divorce-” and here, Hugo had to take a breath to let the word sit there in the air, not just on a legal document. “…divorce would be another.”

“I am so very sorry.” Damien worked the hem of his cloak between his fingers absent-mindedly. “To be quite honest, I was certain things would be better after – ”

“Last weekend?” Hugo’s voice was tinged with bitterness, a sound Damien hardly ever heard from the man. “I really thought so too. Now I just wonder if he stayed so he could get to ride on Joseph’s yacht.” Hugo buried his face in his hands, sitting hunched, unmoving for some time. “We finalized everything today. I didn’t…I didn’t want to fight him.”

“Because you care about Ernest, no doubt.”

Hugo raised his head and his hands dropped to his lap. Damien returned to holding them.

“I want what’s best. But if Ernest didn’t hate me before, he will now…” Hugo suddenly narrowed his eyes, and his mouth tightened into a thin, angry line. “I don’t get to have him on weekends! I’m a teacher! My only time off is on weekends!” Hugo shot up, walking around in a small circle, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m going to be the one to discipline him! I’m going to set the curfew, check his homework, make him do chores –”

He stopped, and turned to stare back at a wide-eyed Damien. Face falling, Hugo slowly took his seat back on the couch. “He really is going to hate me now.”

There was silence.

Then Hugo felt something warm surround him. Touching his shoulder, Hugo traced the dark silk brocade patterns in Damien’s cloak.

“In the Victorian era, the proper mourning of a loved one could take up to four years.” Damien murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “I know…it is not the same. But there is still a piece of you that has been lost, nonetheless.” Damien’s hands found their way back to Hugo’s. “My dearest friend, you have been there when I could not have doubted myself more. Please, allow me to repay you that same kindness.”

Hugo choked out a small laugh, taking off his glasses and wiping them on the edge of his shirt. “You know really _have_ got a way with words. Perhaps you'd come read Wilde or Poe for my classes sometime.”

Damien chuckled. “It would be my pleasure.”

Amidst quiet laughter, their foreheads touched. They looked at each other with half open eyes, wondering. One leaned forward, the other leaned back. Their fingers entwined; the process repeated, always just out of sync, just hesitant enough.

Hugo turned away with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I…I shouldn’t. This won’t fix-“

Damien touched Hugo’s cheek, turning him back. “There is no remedy for love but to love more.” He murmured. “But…I have no desire to err. Shall we keep our standing as it were until a further time?”

“I’d like that.” A smile made its way across Hugo’s face. “Didn’t take you for a Thoreau fan.”

Pleased and quietly preening, Damien sat up a little straighter. “I am quite well-read outside my own interests, you know.”

An awkward cough brought both men to look up. Two to-go cups in his hands, Mat shifted awkwardly from one foot to the next. “So…” he set both cups on the table in front of his friends. “I’m gonna go. Gotta go pick up Carmensita from Brian’s.” Hugo and Damien made motions to get up, but Mat held up his hands to stop them in their tracks. “Woah, woah, I didn’t say you guys had to leave.”

Fishing in his pockets, Mat snagged his keys to the Coffee Spoon and tossed them to Damien. “Just…lock up when you’re done. Leave the keys in the mailbox.”

After they had finished their drinks, they had.

And ever after, on open-mic nights, though Damien and Hugo would arrive on time, Mat would still invite them to stay while he cleaned up.

He figured they had a lot to talk about.

**Author's Note:**

> ** Little white lie on the Victorian facts here. Men were usually only expected to mourn for about three months, but women could be expected to mourn for up to four years. Still, I think Damien would fudge it for the sake of telling Hugo it was okay to just be sad about this part of his life ending.  
> ** Most cloaks during the Victorian era were made of something like broadcloth or silk. Silk brocade on the other hand would have been the primary fabric for gentlemens waistcoats. I just thought the mental image of the texture was a better one to put here. (I don't even know what broadcloth feels like, do y'all?)
> 
> Anyway, first Hugo/Damien fic! Thanks for reading! 
> 
> If you like my work, consider [buying me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/dgwritesfic) or follow me [on tumblr](http://dog-loving-goth.tumblr.com/) and say hi!


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